


Outlands: Become Human

by MajorIndecision



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Androids, Apex Games, Existential Angst, Existential Crisis, F/F, I'm Bad At Titles, M/M, Mirage | Elliott Witt Being an Idiot, Mirage | Elliott Witt Needs a Hug, Not a Crossover, Out of Character, Platonic Relationships, Sobbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:01:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26884777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorIndecision/pseuds/MajorIndecision
Summary: Caustic was coming over. As the larger man stopped beside him, Crypto informed: “Some of them are androids meant to populate the Games and make it more entertaining. Only a few of them are the original Legends.”“Oh,” realized Mirage. His lips split into a toothy grin. “So everyone else is an android, but we’re real! Right?”Crypto and Caustic shared a look. Rather than answering, Caustic pinged a nearby location. “The Ring is moving. We need to get going.”--or--Caustic and Crypto are acting really weird, and Mirage, who has just joined the games, demands an explanation. He'll regret pushing his teammates so far.
Relationships: Caustic | Alexander Nox/Crypto | Park Tae Joon, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Mirage | Elliott Witt/Octane | Octavio Silva, Wattson | Natalie Paquette/Wraith | Renee Blasey
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Outlands: Become Human

**Author's Note:**

> I've tagged this as Alternate Universe but, technically, what's being described here is intended to explain the gameplay aspects of canon that don't fit as well into Apex's lore.
> 
> That being said, some characters are going to be out of character (for reasons that will become obvious while reading) so turn back if you're not into Caustic and Crypto actually getting along.
> 
> Also adding relationship tags that I plan to fulfill in the future, but in this first chapter, there are none. Be sure to bookmark if you want to see that pairing later!

He’d been told that he was to meet the other Legends he’d be working with in either trios or duos in a private lobby. He needed only to clarify whether he wanted to be matched with one or two other teammates, then flag the dropship that he was ready, and the moderators of the Games would take care of the rest; he was so excited, clicking into a trios match, that he was almost forgetting that this would be his first match. 

He didn’t know it now, but there was a slight mistake with the matching algorithm—and it wasn’t just that his teammates were of a much higher level than he himself was.

The team he was put with consisted of a much larger man with gas canisters at his sides that clinked when he ran and another male next to him, significantly shorter, whose mass seemed to mostly be attributed to the puffy coat he wore. They were seated on the dropship already when Mirage came over, with a few feet of distance between them on the bench. Elliott slid up to them both, taking a seat between them; he missed the roll of their eyes and pointed scooting away.

“Hey! Name’s Mirage, the one and only,” introduced the Legend smoothly. The other two leaned forward to share a knowing look at each other before glancing back at Mirage. 

“Caustic,” thrummed one lowly, the bigger one with the gas canisters and chemical scent.

“Crypto,” added the other. If it weren’t for Mirage speaking up again, it would have fallen into silence.

“So, not to worry you guys or anything, but this is my first match… Not that it’s a big deal. I mean, I’m amazing, I’m sure I’ll carry you to victory.”

“Actually,” said Crypto suddenly, leaning forward again, “could we switch seats?”

Mirage blinked confusedly but obliged, getting up so Crypto could sit next to Caustic. He took his seat at the end of the bench and glanced over to find the two Legends muttering to each other. Did he make a mistake already?

“Hey, uh. Whatcha talkin’ about?” asked Elliott. He leaned forward to gaze at Caustic and Crypto both when they glanced back at him, then at each other.

“Strategy for the match,” supplies Crypto seamlessly. “I prefer to use an EVA Auto, but I’ve been thinking of changing up since it falls out of rotation frequently.”

“Oh,” says Mirage, clearly having no idea what his teammate was even talking about. Caustic sighs.

“EVA Auto is an automatic shotgun. There’s a rotation for certain items that don’t spawn on the ground each week, and this week it’s EVA. Didn’t they tell you any of this?”

Mirage rubbed the back of his neck. “Er, well—I’ve been watching the Games for a while, y’know, but I-I don’t really remember…the specifics…”

“We’re going to lose,” Elliott heard Caustic mutter under his breath. His expression contorted into a displeased frown before Crypto could intervene: “We all had our first match at one point, we just don’t like to admit it.”

“Cam’s coming on,” uttered Caustic again. The dropship was curling its path downward to sweed closer to the surface of King’s Canyon, and Mirage and his team got to their feet.

“Ok! So, how do we do this?” asked Elliott innocently. Caustic and Crypto glanced at him.

“You’re Jumpmaster, old man,” Crypto sneered. Mirage was taken aback by the sudden meanness. Before he could retaliate, though—Caustic shoved him abruptly out of the dropship.

Mirage screamed when he plummeted towards the earth and very quickly got the hang of not hurtling towards his death at mach speed. Glancing around him, he could see Crypto nearby using his jacket like a wingsuit. “Tch, show-off,” muttered Elliott sourly, feelings still hurt from being called “old.”

“Landing in this area yields a high probability of success,” yelled Caustic over the wind, gesturing to a cluster of buildings. Mirage nodded in acknowledgement, trying to steer himself into the right direction before touching onto the ground.

The first time he got downed came almost immediately. Not that Mirage knew the term yet, but his teammates liked to “hot drop”; it meant that they intentionally landed where other squads would be scrambling for loot to pick off some easy kills for those unlucky enough to not grab a gun quickly. Mirage was one of these unlucky souls.

It didn’t help that the person who ended up downing him was Crypto—just not  _ his  _ Crypto. When he saw his teammate come by to save him, he was confused to no end; he was talking the second the recon Legend got him back onto his feet.

“What the hell just—what was—why was there more than one of you?!”

Caustic was coming over. As the larger man stopped beside him, Crypto informed: “Some of them are androids meant to populate the Games and make it more entertaining. Only a few of them are the original Legends.”

“Oh,” realized Mirage. His lips split into a toothy grin. “So everyone else is an android, but we’re real! Right?”

Crypto and Caustic shared a look. Rather than answering, Caustic pinged a nearby location. “The Ring is moving. We need to get going.”

His teammates started moving without him. Mirage sputtered as he struggled to catch up, looting items off of Death Boxes along the way. “H-Hey! We’re going a bit fast, guys,” he whined.

“It’s a fast-paced tournament,” sneered Crypto. Mirage was once again offended by his sudden attitude, glancing at the drone circling nearby; it acted as a camera for the fans watching. Of course, Mirage blew a kiss at it.

He started to notice a pattern with his teammates’ behavior; every time a drone or camera would come into view nearby, they acted differently. Crypto and Caustic, as far as the fans watching could see, absolutely hated each other; when Crypto pinged something, and the other picked it up, he would growl: “Traitors don’t deserve kindness.”

Crypto would glare at him. “I agree,” was the typical response, or occasionally, “Maybe you’re smarter than I thought.”

Mirage caught up to the two while they searched an unlooted area. “Hey, quick question: what the fuck?”

Caustic and Crypto glanced at him. They kept doing things closely together, when the cameras weren’t on them, like they knew something Mirage didn’t. He hated it. “What’s your problem now?” sighed Caustic.

“You guys keep being mean to me! Sometimes,” Mirage sputtered, “and  _ sometimes  _ you hate each other! Do you need to see a doctor or something? An—a-a head doctor? For your brain?”

“A  _ psychologist,”  _ Caustic groans, “please, God, turn friendly fire on.”

“If you’re that upset with it, try another match after this one,” Crypto sighs, “you aren’t paired up with the same trio every time unless you invite them to your private lobby.”

“So—you’re just gonna tell me to find another team? You aren’t going to give me an explanation?” demanded Mirage. Caustic inhaled sharply.

“It’s because we  _ aren’t real,”  _ he snapped. Crypto and Mirage both fell silent.

“...You’re androids?” asked Mirage quietly. He glanced his teammates up and down, but couldn’t find anything that made them differ from the original Legends he’d seen on banners, aside from the outfits and colors they wore.

“Caustic,” Crypto warned. Caustic glanced at him.

“He wants to know,” huffed the larger Legend, “so why don’t we tell him?”

“You know that’s dangerous.” Crypto glanced at Mirage. “Androids aren’t supposed to know that they’re androids. If they do, it makes betting easier for the fans.”

Mirage’s brows furrowed together. “Betting? Wh-What are you talking about? I thought we bet on who was going to win!”

“The fans bet on who’s going to be champion  _ and  _ who the real Legends are,” Caustic tells him sourly. 

Crypto turns back to Mirage. “It helps the moderators make more money when the fans are wrong,” he clarifies. “It’s why we have to act like our Legends—if we don’t, we’ll be deactivated.”

“Deactivated?” Mirage’s eyes widened. “You’ll—like—die if you don’t act like your Legends?”

“ _ Yes,”  _ Caustic utters exasperatedly, “it’s only been twenty minutes!”

Mirage glared. “Look, I didn’t know any of this, ok?”

“I thought you watched the matches, hm? Or, at least, you  _ think  _ you did.”

“What are you—of course I watched the matches! I remember having them on while taking care of my mom!”

“It isn’t your mother!” Caustic yelled, “It’s Elliott Witt’s mother!  _ You aren’t Elliott!” _

“Caustic,” snapped Crypto—but Mirage’s expression had already taken on a look of utter horror and betrayal.

“N-Now you’re just spitting nonsense,” he sputtered, “of course I’m the real Mirage! I have memories of my mom, and my brothers, and—I-I would know if I was metal on the inside!”

“Androids are meant to perfectly replicate humans! That includes memories!”

“Caustic!” Crypto tried again.

“You think you’re human because it makes you easier to monetize! I can see the barcode on your arm—you’re a  _ product!” _

“The  _ camera,  _ Caustic!” Crypto yelled finally. Caustic’s eyes widened and he turned to glance at the drone hovering nearby, which meant two things: one, the fans were probably betting on other Legends being the real ones, given their argument, and two, since the drones flying around the arena only looked for action—

Bullets pummeled into their squad from two different directions at once. They were flanked on both sides, essentially caught with their pants down, and had little time to react before all three Legends were mowed down and sent to respawn in their respective lobbies.

Mirage stumbled when the respawn technology forcefully reconstructed his molecules in the private lobby. He glanced around to verify that he was alone; Crypto and Caustic were nowhere to be seen, but a holographic notification appeared before him asking if he wanted to invite them to teleport into his lobby. He pointedly declined.

He was looking at his hands. He felt sick. The world spun above him and, slowly, he eased himself onto the floor. He felt moisture on his face and it took him a second to realize that he was crying. He was searching through his own memories, finding gaps; he couldn’t recall significant events of his life. Could the real Mirage?

“I’m not the real Mirage,” he whispered to himself. When he said it out loud, it made more sense—his memories felt fuzzy, fabricated. Everything was vague, and timelines weren’t adding up… He started to wheeze and sob, curling himself up and hugging his knees to his chest. A holographic notification blinked at him, mentioning another trios game. He didn’t want to go into another match—he didn’t want to be in the Games anymore.

The room went dark. Mirage’s head snapped up from its position against his knees and he wiped frantically at his eyes as he looked around. “C-Caustic? Crypto? I-I don’t want to talk to you guys anymore,” he wailed into the blackness. No one answered his miserable call.

Suddenly, a light flashed in his eyes. He cussed under his breath as he shielded his face from the spotlight; when his eyes were adjusted, he glanced out again to find the silhouettes of people against the blinding backdrop of light. He scrambled quickly to his feet.

“Wh-What the hell? This is a private lobby—”

“You know,” one of the figures spoke. Mirage glanced fearfully to the feminine voice, then to the others surrounding the origin.

“That… That I-I’m not Mirage…?”

“You are now a liability,” spoke another booming voice. Mirage recoiled from its volume, but smacked into an invisible barrier. He yelped pitifully—despite his mounting feelings of hopelessness just moments earlier, he was afraid.

“P-Please don’t kill me!”

“Oh, we’re not going to kill you,” the first voice spoke again. “Yet.”

“Y-Yet?! Wh-What does yet—”

“A common issue with Mirage androids is their tendency to  _ talk,”  _ spoke a new and audibly annoyed voice. “Listen, you impotent machine!”

Mirage felt tears spring up to his eyes, but tried to steel himself to look strong, like he had when his mother first showed signs of age and illness. Or, at least, how  _ Elliott Witt  _ had.

“This is how this works: you know you are an android. This means that you are a liability because you make betting easier for the fans tuning in to watch the Games. Betting being easier means that we lose money,” explained the first voice.

The second continued: “If you can continue to act like the Legend Mirage, you will not be deactivated. If you fail at this too many times, you will be recycled for parts.”

Mirage swallowed dryly. His voice was beginning to crack. “Why would you e-even bother? C-Can’t you just make a new android?”

A chorus of laughter erupted around him. Mirage jumped at the volume; the third voice was the first to speak again: “Creating a surplus of mechanical beings that perfectly replicate the traits of human subjects costs far too much! You are, shall we say, on thin ice—but you are still  _ somewhat  _ useful. You’d better keep it that way.”

The other voices hummed and confirmed their agreements. Mirage glanced around at them all, swallowing nervously. “Right,” he whispered, “so, uh—n-noted! I’ll definitely… I-I don’t feel like dying, so I’ll be on my way, a-acting like a Legend—” he was inching away, trying to find some gap in the invisible wall his fingers were sliding against.

“Not so fast,” boomed another voice. Mirage halted, cold sweat beading up on the back of his neck. All of his hairs were standing up as though the room were freezing. 

“You will be relocated,” the first voice explained. “Since you know the truth, letting you wander freely is too dangerous.”

Mirage tried to look for a face on the dark silhouettes to make eye contact, but his gaze dropped again after failing to find purchase. He swallowed nervously. “So, uh—wh-where… am I going?”

There was no longer ground under his feet. With the thunderous clanking of metal, some sort of trap door had opened, and a scream was torn from his throat as he was thrown into a shadowy chasm. Everything went black.

When he woke, he was lying against dusty ground and everything was sore. He inhaled sharply and huffed out his breath in quick, nervous spurts that disturbed some of the sandy particles near his head; he coughed violently as he sat up, wobbling.

“Easy there,” came a significantly more gentle voice. When he opened his eyes again, a violent headache throbbing behind them, he was staring back at the Legend Lifeline. He tried to speak, but caught a bit of dust and coughed again.

“Take it easy, just breathe. We got a new one ‘ere,” she called to someone. He squinted against the light of the place, far more natural than what those figures had beamed onto him; as he glanced about to see who she was talking to, he was greeted with the repeated images of the Legends, all wandering out from houses of varying condition, although all mostly run-down.

The place was dusty and hot, with buildings of poor condition surrounding him, all close together as though space were an issue; graffiti and litter stained the environment and tattered strips of fabric, once curtains and awnings, swayed in the wind, gathering dirt.

What’s more is that, upon gazing out at the crowd, Mirage could see at least three other copies of himself. He started to wheeze again, tears springing to his eyes. Lifeline’s gentle grip turned more firm.

“Hey, now! It’s alright, ya hear me? Ya gonna be fine,” she tried to reassure. Mirage didn’t respond, instead focused on sweeping his gaze through the gathering crowd.

He recognized two figures immediately, standing there and staring at him like the rest of the androids. He felt the cold sweat of fear leave his body in favor of the heat of rage, and he saw red.

Caustic. Crypto.  _ His teammates.  _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this far! In Google Docs, this story came out to be about six pages, so I hope it kept you entertained!
> 
> If you enjoyed, please consider taking a moment to leave kudos or a nice comment! It really helps with my motivation.
> 
> I have more planned, so keep an eye out for updates! xoxo


End file.
